


Reflections

by TheFairysPath (friendlyneighborhoodfairy)



Series: The Path I Took (WWTDP 2018) [15]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: ADHD, Bathrooms, Camping, Discrimination, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Photography, Plans For The Future, Starting Over, Trans Male Character, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 08:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16343675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodfairy/pseuds/TheFairysPath
Summary: When a discrimination incident results in upheaval, Sting is upset about starting life over. Rogue is hopeful. Turns out, Rogue is closer to the truth.(Fic #1 forWhen We Take Different Pathsgender week.)





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt = reflections + trans Sting + genderfluid Rogue. Modern AU.

Sting couldn't remember a time when Rogue was not in his life.

Rogue was the balance of reason, the call to peace, the space in which Sting could relax. All his anxieties quieted around them, and he could see again.

He tossed a pebble into the pond and watched the reflection of blue sky ripple. If Rogue was the water, Sting was the disturbing rock.

"Sting?" Rogue called.

He inhaled deeply.

"Here."

They trailed over, pushing aside the tall grasses that lined the water's edge.

"You doing okay?" they asked.

"Yep." He forced his voice to be cheerful. "Just was looking for a place to pee. Then I got distracted."

"The campground has toilets," Rogue snorted.

"Um, yeah, I found them, and the men's have no doors."

"That's awkward."

"Yeah."

Rogue paused. "Tonight, when we brush our teeth, we'll go together."

"Yeah."

They were always protecting him. Always standing tall.

Looking up at them, he tugged their hand. "Sit with me."

While Rogue looked for a dry rock to perch their ass on, Sting returned to his silent vigil of the ripples. They'd almost gone. He dropped another rock in.

The sound was so quiet it was deafening.

"This is nice," Rogue sighed.

"Good choice," Sting said, searching his feet for more pebbles. "You planned a good route."

"I don't mean the campground, I mean the trip. Camping in general."

"It made sense. It's the cheapest choice," Sting murmured.

"Sting."

Sting found a sharp rock and threw it as far as he could.

"You're not feeling guilty, are you?" they asked.

"Nah. Why would I be?" Sting lobbed another stone. "Not like it's my fault there are assholes out there who will fire people indiscriminately. Hah, rather, fire people  _discriminately._ "

"Sting."

"Rogue."

Rogue sighed.

Sting had thrown all the pebbles in his vicinity and reached around looking for more, fingers scrabbling and trying not to shake. He didn't notice them moving until something touched his shoulder and he jumped sky high.

"Jesus!"

"I love you," they said, leaning down to kiss his head. "I will go anywhere with you. Even the West Coast."

Straightening, Rogue headed back up the path toward their campsite, leaving Sting unsure whether he wanted to smile or cry or yell at someone.

* * *

"There you are," Rogue said.

Their voice was so smooth—low and soft—and it had always entranced Sting. He wondered what it would sound like if Rogue sang—really sang, not the quiet, embarrassed mumbles of lyrics that were, despite their claims, quite on key and pretty.

"Hey, love." Leaning back, he stretched across the rock he was sitting on, back against the hot stone, and smiled contentedly at them.

Their smile was happy and blushing.

"Of course I'd find out you here," they said, laughing in exasperation. "I searched the whole flat for you first."

"For all that this is a  _community_  garden, I swear nobody else comes out here."

"I've seen a few in the early mornings…Miz Felcher, the old lady in ten, prunes the cucumbers and the beans. But not many do. I'm not complaining. More produce for us."

"And you make the best salads," Sting said, suddenly realizing he was hungry. "This place is so peaceful. I love it out here."

"Isn't the water freezing?" they asked, sitting beside him.

He kicked his feet in the little pond. "Nah, it's nice."

Their eyes tracked his movements, contemplative. "That's pretty. Like jewels. Like you're flinging diamonds in the air."

Grinning, Sting watched the droplets arc through the sunlight.

"Oo," he said suddenly. "Fuck, where's my phone. Okay, let's see…"

It took several minutes of fiddling with settings and trying on a couple different of the specialty lenses he kept in his pocket, but he got the shot framed just right and took a series.

"One of those has to turn out," he said, flicking through them briefly.

"I love that you've gotten into photography since we came here. You're really good."

He flushed, putting away his phone and straightening so they sat side-by-side.

"Thanks. It's like reflections of our life, you know? I can look back and see these other versions of ourselves…re-experience the things they experienced. And then share those experiences visually and hopefully make other people feel the same things. Contentment, whatever."

"You definitely do that," Rogue said. Leaning their head on his shoulder, they sighed, "You're my contentment."

Laughing softly, Sting ran a hand through their hair.

"Funny: I could say the same thing."

"You're the deep feeler," Rogue argued. "You're good at emotions. I wasn't near so good at knowing what I was feeling and managing things like anger and sadness before I met you."

"You're the deep thinker," Sting smiled. "You're the one who keeps me from dragging us too far off the cliff of absurdity."

"Just  _slightly_  off it."

"Yeah," he laughed. "Just enough to be fun."

He glanced back at the townhouse behind them, the home they'd made over the past year since settling down here. They were only there about half the time, with Rogue's work always sending them on trips. Since they'd always wanted to see the world together, Sting had declared that they shouldn't let normality stop them: he got a low-paying job that let him take off whenever and frittered around the globe with Rogue.

Now their lives were adorned with memories and photos of Germany, Japan, Hong Kong, Pakistan, Bangladesh. Next month they were heading to Madagascar, and Sting, who knew nothing about the country, had raided the library's travel books to learn everything he could. He'd even learned a few words of Malagasy.  _Faly mahalala anao?_

It wasn't a usual life by any means, but they were both doing what they loved, and they were doing it together.

And they'd met people because of their lifestyle, too. They needed someone to watch their two cats while they were gone—someone whom they trusted and the cats loved—and had met this lovely pair of lesbians at Sting's job who housesat for them and, when Sting and Rogue were  _in_  the country, were some of their closest friends. Yukino, who seemed to know everyone, had introduced them to even more acquaintances, and now they had friends—far more than they'd ever had in their hometown.

It felt so far away from that place, where he and Rogue were glared at with suspicion in their apartment complex, and where Sting's boss looking at his paperwork and noticing the 'F' when Sting looked like and used the bathroom assigned to those who "should" have an 'M' had been able to fire him without references…

"The bad things aren't the end of the story, yeah?" Sting said, gripping their hand and looking over.

"Yeah," Rogue agreed, leaning in to kiss him, then kiss his cheek, and then leaning in further to gently kiss his ear and tug at it with their teeth.

"I love you," Sting whispered. "You know that, right?"

" _Eny,_ " Rogue replied. "Wait, er… _tiako ianao._ "

Sting stared at them with wide eyes. "When did you learn that?"

Rogue grinned.

"I started listening to the Pimsleuer on my commute."

"Not fair! Wait, so that was 'I love you'? How do you say it again?"

Laughing, they kissed his lips again. "You'll just have to catch up. I'm on lesson four."

"We are listening to this while we make dinner," Sting said. "And you'll just have to hear it all again."

"How about you play yahtzee with me in consolation?"

Sting gave a dramatic sigh. He always lost.

"Fiiiine. I'll let you use the torture game on me."

Their delighted laugh eased his heart. This was the life he'd always wanted.


End file.
